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Indiana / IU / photo / podcast / Thursday — Comments Off on If you squint, the snow looks like sand
18
Jan 18

If you squint, the snow looks like sand

That’s what I’m telling myself. It reminds me of the sugar beaches of my youth. Sunburns and shade and hot feet and warm water and getting that sand everywhere. At least the snow doesn’t have that same persistence of sand. Indoors, anyway. At least it has the decency to melt inside. Otherwise? No way. This stuff has been on the ground for a week, tomorrow.

But if you squint, it could be sand. It has just the right amount of frost as a covering to sound like walking on sand in shoes. And those grassy bushes, those bushes that I run my hands through, you know, when the windchill isn’t six below as it was yesterday morning, or .5 degrees this morning …

Point five degrees? Point five degree? Why are we even bothering to consider the grammar, or even calculate this?

Those bushes, why if you keep your gaze low to the ground, you could almost convince yourself they are sea oats.

But then the wind blows, and you realize you’re a long way from the Gulf.

On today’s program I spoke with Jamie Zega. She’s a former editor-in-chief of the Pacemaker-winning Indiana Daily Student. Soon she’ll graduate and take her many talents and great potential to The Washington Post. But today, she’s talking about modern presidential language. This one, as the people say, is sorta NSFW. Give her a listen in the player below:

Did you listen yet? You should? She’s a very smart and thoughtful young reporter.

And, now, back to my pretending to hear sand beneath my feet.

Friday / Indiana / Instagram / IU / photo / Twitter — Comments Off on They’re good at taking care of the roads here
12
Jan 18

They’re good at taking care of the roads here

Look how pretty! Snow falling on our building on campus …

And from inside that building, from a corner window in an unused office on the fifth floor …

All of the schools and the city government closed down. We worked. And the road crews did too …

Sorta …

Happy weekend!

IU / photo / Thursday — Comments Off on This is fine, everything is fine
4
Jan 18

This is fine, everything is fine

All week long like this:

And for the first few seconds, you don’t even notice. The conduction takes about two minutes to really kick in. If you wear enough layers, you find yourself only freezing in your lower body.

I found this out because I looked outside on day three or four of the creek running around Franklin Hall and saw someone walking on the frozen creek. Being on the creek would give a slightly different perspective:

But when I got down there, I saw that the previous person was just barely staying on the ice:

So, I thought I could go get a monopod and just reach out over the sorta-frozen water. But by then, I was already cold, overly cold, and getting colder. The thing I learned is that you have to allow for the time it takes to walk back inside. That part is the coldest part.

Friday / IU / photo / television / video — Comments Off on Last show of the semester
8
Dec 17

Last show of the semester

My group, IUSTV, the student television station, has been in the studio some 56 times this semester. Not that I’d count that sort of thing. This morning was the last show of the term, and we wrapped production on a two-season run of a morning show. Here’s the producer, one of the hosts and a guest:

There’s been good, there’s been some really good. There have been a few weird things, and a lot of of people working pretty hard and, hopefully, having a little fun, too. You can see this last show, here:

More on Twitter and on Instagram.

IU / photo / Wednesday — Comments Off on The beautiful trouble of autumn, Part IX
15
Nov 17

The beautiful trouble of autumn, Part IX

I’m in the final week of the local autumn observational complaint: You can’t make autumn stay, you can’t show off the season properly. I’m still trying to do it, even though it can’t be done. But I’m still trying.

It seems like there’s a shift in the tint of the golden light from the late sun. It’s still pleasant out, but there’s a feeling in the air. The optimism of crisp morning air is taking on a new meaning with a nearer, sharper crispness in the air. It isn’t a foreboding, but a coming to a sense of reality.

There was a mom and a child playing beneath that tree, while the dad was taking pictures of them. The boy was in his element and having a great time, but the parents were trying to document all that was passing before them. We must deliberately categorize certain things out of doors, in certain lights. The kids will get bigger, the trees will become exposed twigs, the blue sky turns grey. Before you know it, the next family photos feature a slightly older kid. And by the time they take those pictures, things will be green again. Or, covered in snow if their brave. And so they are out right now, setting a memory.

That’s a lot to take from watching a young family for a few seconds, but there’s a certain chill in the breeze.

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